A Most Miraculous Journey
by SharksRule567
Summary: A summary of the events that led up to the engagement of Hermione and Ron through Hermione's eyes.


**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the genius JK Rowling**_  
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_A/N This is my very first story! So excited! Please review! Let me know if you thought it was true to her character, if you liked it, if you didn't like it, and what made you like/dislike it. All criticism is accepted gratefully, as long as it is constructive._

I still have trouble believing that I, Hermione Granger, am engaged to be married to Ron Weasley. It's been a rather remarkable journey. I remember being eleven, and crying in the stall of a bathroom because he'd said something mean to me. But if he hadn't said something mean to me, and I hadn't cried, then I don't know if we would've ever become friends, or fallen in love. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose.

I can remember yelling at him during the Yule Ball. I just wanted to shake all of the nonsense out of that pubertal head of his. Hormones have quite the talent for messing with the minds of unsuspecting adolescents, something that only grows more true over the years. It isn't my fault Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball. I said yes, assuming that Ron would never ask. When he did, it was in an incredibly insensitive manner, and I wasn't going to say yes to that. And even though I dropped a hint while yelling at him, it still flew over his head, much to my frustration.

Sixth year brought along the most stress I've ever known, or at least up to that point. I met the biggest threat to my friendship (and hopefulness for something more than friendship) I would ever meet - Lavender Brown. An annoying, whiny, hyperactive, bobble-head. The only thing she is capable of doing is either snogging Ron, yelling out of jealousy, or talking in that mousy voice of hers. Sure, I probably shouldn't have sent a flock of birds at Ron's head after he and Lavender accidentally stumbled into the vacant classroom I was in, but I'm sure any girl in my position would've done the same thing.

Over the course of 6 (excluding the year I spent at Hogwarts when I decided to return to complete my NEWTs) I'd only had a handful of friends. I think I can count my good friends I've had over the years on my fingers. Harry, Ronald, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. I was on friendly terms with my fellow Gryffindors, but I never quite fit in. I suppose it was my obnoxiously loud mouth, tendency to criticize their every move when it came to schooling, or the fact that my hand was in the air with the answer within the first three seconds of being asked. I can't say I blame them for never wanting to get to know me better. I even irritated my best friends with my consistent nagging. Ron was always on my case about being a know-it-all, and Harry was kind enough to just tune me out when I was in one of my rages.

I tried to provide logical reasoning for every issue we were presented with. I usually was ended up being forced to go along with their plans, or eventually seeing eye-to-eye with the boys. Sometimes my logical nature ended up being the prevalent one, and sometimes it was Harry's impulsive, intuitive nature, that ignored all senses of logic and sided with the first emotion felt in the gut.

It's been a few years since we defeated Voldemort. That had to have been the best and worst time of my life. It seems strange that it can be both, but it is both. The worst part had to have been the fight between Harry and Ron. Ron walked out on us, and even though more than anything I wanted to chase after him and go with him wherever he went, I knew I was needed with Harry. I'd promised to help Harry, and I couldn't walk away from him.

I spent most of the first weeks after he left crying. As much as I tried to put on a strong front for Harry, and make it look like I wasn't being affected too much by his leaving, (as Harry had just had his best friend walk away from him, he clearly was hurt, even if he didn't admit it) he most definitely heard my soft cries at night, or saw my red and puffy eyes in the mornings. Crying myself to sleep was how I learned to cope, and it was rather strange when I started falling asleep without sobbing. The lack of blurry vision, a headache, and puffy eyes was a foreign experience.

Eventually Ronald came back, and with every right, I was furious. It seemed preposterous to me that he could come back after weeks of leaving me and Harry fending for ourselves, and expect it to be better like that. I can admit that I am a very stubborn person, but I think even if I wasn't stubborn, I would've still been resentful towards him.

I saw too many deaths. This is the most obvious reason for that being the worst time of my life. I saw too many deaths for someone of my age, or someone of any age. Although it is natural for a person to see an accumulative number of deaths as they age, I saw as many deaths happen at one time that a ninety year old man on his deathbed should have seen. I saw my peers die. I saw people younger than me die. I was only 18 at the time. And then I had to watch the boy who I'd been in love with for years sob over the dead body of his older brother. That was most difficult thing I've ever had to witness. That was more difficult to watch than being told my best friend was dead, and seeing his limp body. And I can say that while I thought he was dead, before he jumped up, the pain was still not as great as watching Ron lie strewn across Fred's body. I felt too vulnerable. It was too painful.

Then, of course, I walked away after the war from the place I had called home for 9 months out of the year for six years. I'd grown up, fallen in love, and learned at Hogwarts, and then, I watched as it was destroyed before my very eyes. There's nothing from the war that has stuck with me more than seeing everyone huddled together in the Great Hall, hugging peers they've never talked too, and only bothered to learn their name, holding hands, and assuring each other they'd be all right. That in itself was beautiful, and although it occurred because of a horrific tragedy, it has to be perhaps one of my favorite memories. It is bittersweet, and I cannot describe it in any other words than this: A beautiful moment of unison, with people who had come together for one cause in a time of dire need.

Then we come to another good moment of the war. It happened before the Great Hall situation. Ron and I kissed. I didn't even care that Harry was right there, or that I looked a mess. The only thing running through my mind was: "I'm kissing Ron Weasley!" The boy who'd made me cry in my first year, who had accused my cat of eating his rat, the boy who'd made me cry at the end of the Yule Ball, and the boy who I had to watch get his face sucked off by an annoying demon, I was kissing him. It was pure magic. (No pun intended.)

So now, I come to the end of my life story. No, not the actual end, but the end of my documentation. Life will go on. I will meet new people. I will lose more people, and I will hurt, cry, laugh, and smile. It's all a part of life.


End file.
